Bedtime Stories
by kaly
Summary: While at Pastor Jim's, Dean thinks about what's lost and what he hasn't since his mom died. Preseries: Sam's 4, Dean's 8. Spoilers sorta for Houses of the Holy.


Title: Bedtime Stories   
Author: kaly   
Category: Gen; angst; pre-series (Sam 4, Dean 8)  
Characters: Dean, Sam   
Word Count: 1,310   
Rating: K   
Spoilers: Houses of the Holy   
Summary: While at Pastor Jim's, Dean thinks about what's lost - and what he hasn't - since his mom died. Wee!chesters. 

Note: Tag (of sorts) to Houses of the Holy. Thanks, as always, to geminigrl11 for the super-quick beta. Any remaining mistakes are all me.

Disclaimer: Not mine. The pretty, snarky, angsty brothers belong to Kripke & the CW.

Bedtime Stories

"Would you like to hear a story, boys?" Jim asked, tucking the blankets around Sam and Dean.

They were pressed together, Sam's face tucked against Dean's throat, breath tickling his skin, and he felt Sam nod. The younger boy still didn't look up at Pastor Jim, however. They'd been coming to stay with him for a little while now, but Sammy was still slow to trust anyone outright but Dean and their dad.

Dean glanced up at Pastor Jim and tried to smile, he stopped when he saw a worried look on his face. Sam might be skittish around him where Dean wasn't, but Dean was happiest when he could keep to himself and Sam without others hovering. There was no one to disappoint then, no one to bother, if they just left him and Sammy alone.

Bedtime stories weren't much of a priority for John; there were always other things to be done. Dean could remember, fuzzily but still, when his mom would tuck him into bed and read him a story. She had even told him that when he was older, he could read the stories to her.

But "older" hadn't come soon enough to get to read stories to his mom. The bad man and the fire had taken her away and left them alone and there were no more stories with her. The only bedtime stories were the hushed make-believe that Dean would whisper to Sammy as he was falling asleep. Stories of princesses and princes and dragons that breathed fire and were always defeated.

"Any particular story, then?" Jim asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I've got a couple of books around here, from the church library." He pulled one from a nearby shelf, showing it to the boys. _Children's Stories of the Bible_ was written on the cover in gold.

Dean cringed, not wanting to seem ungrateful but... church stories? His mom had told him some of those, like Noah and the ark or Daniel and the lions. He'd even liked them then. Then she had always kissed his forehead and told him that angels were always watching over him. He didn't understand how that could be true, though. Mom's angels should've kept her safe, saved her from the bad man. Then he and Sammy would be tucked in back home with her reading to them, not Pastor Jim.

Dean sighed before he could stop himself, looking up quickly to see the worried look back on Pastor Jim's face. He caught himself before sighing again. He hated it when grownups looked at him like that. His dad hated it when they looked at Dean like that, too.

"Boys?" Jim asked after a long moment had passed with no response.

He smiled at Sam, then less assuredly at Dean. Dean couldn't help but notice that now his forehead was all squished. Their dad had said to be good, not to cause any trouble for Pastor Jim, since he was doing them a favor. Dean wanted to be good, even if he didn't want a church story.

He wondered if Pastor Jim realized something like that, because before Dean could say okay - even if it wasn't - he continued: "How about a story about something else? Peter Pan, maybe? Would you like that instead?"

Dean felt more than saw Sammy nod, the little arms around his chest squeezing tight at the same time. "Yes, please," Sammy said, so quiet Dean almost couldn't hear it, but he could tell that Jim had when the older man smiled again.

"Good, good. Let me just go get the book, okay? I know it's around here somewhere, I just have to go find it." At that, he stood and left the room, muttering under his breath about where the book might've gotten off to.

It was quiet for a moment before Sam asked, "Should I have said no, Dean?" The little head pulled back just far enough that Dean could see his face. "The other book was right here and Daddy said not to be bad."

Dean shook his head. He wouldn't have asked for another story, but for Sam it was different. Sam should have the story he wanted 'cause their mom had never gotten to read stories to him. That made Dean sad, he wanted Sam to be happy and get the story he wanted.

"It's okay, Sammy," he replied, hoping to keep Sam from getting more upset.

"Okay," Sam said, and Dean knew that Sam would be happy as long as he was. If Dean said it was okay, then it was okay for Sam too. Sometimes, he wished that he had an older brother to say it was all okay - like their mom used to. Their dad was always sad and quiet; Dean never wanted to bother him with silly things like hugs or stories. So he saved those things for Sam.

Most times, though, helping Sam be happy made Dean happy. That was something else his mom had told him, before Sammy was born. She said that Dean was going to be a big brother and that meant he should always look out for his little brother. But then she said that Sam would look up to him, follow him around and want to be just like him, that he'd think Dean hung the moon. He still didn't understand that last part, but she'd made it sound like a good thing. She said being a big brother would be the best thing ever.

She'd told him that what they would have - him and Sam - would be different, special. He wasn't so sure about that then; it seemed silly that such an ugly little wiggly thing - he'd seen pictures of babies, he wasn't impressed with this so called little brother his mom kept talking about - would ever be anything special. She had laughed when he'd said that, and told him he would understand some day.

His mom was right though because having Sammy around was special. And Sam did look up to him and made Dean feel special, too. He just wished maybe she'd been right about other things too, like angels and always being there. Not that he ever told Sammy that.

She had told him bunches of things, given him lots and lots of kisses and hugs. Said they were her own little angels - him and Sammy. Then she'd tickle him and he'd laugh and everything was perfect and happy and bright. Only things weren't so bright anymore. He was forgetting stuff about his mom and he knew Sammy would never know her at all. It was dark.

The sound of Jim approaching startled Dean into tightening his arms around Sam. Sammy was once again snuggled against his throat; arms around his chest and Dean closed his eyes for a moment. Sometimes he just wanted to hide - him and Sam together - away from everyone and everything and then maybe it wouldn't be so dark. Then maybe there wouldn't be any trouble, no one to let down or hurt. Sometimes, Dean thought, but not most of the time.

Maybe there were no angels, unlike their mom had said but maybe that way okay. Because he had Sammy and their dad. They even had Pastor Jim (who was still mumbling something about books and legs and hiding) and maybe they could make do without angels and be just fine.

It wasn't the same as the before time - when there were angels and stories and a mom to kiss them goodnight - but there was Sam. There was someone to love forever who loved him just as much, even if there were bad men and fires. Maybe that would've made their mom smile, like she used to. He hoped so, he missed her smile.

fin


End file.
